Mash-Up: I'm Not A Substitute

"Takashi-kun, we at the Nippon-Ham Fighters would also love to sign you. Here's our offer."

Takezoe finally spoke.

He didn't hand over a contract. Instead, while the server brought food, he pulled a pen from his chest pocket and scribbled a figure on a sticky note.

Signing bonus: 100 million yen.

Incentive bonus: 100 million yen.

Annual salary: 890 million yen.

Takashi glanced at it and suddenly understood why Japanese families were so eager to push their kids into baseball.

The previous numbers leaked from the Hanshin Tigers were just lip service for Hitomi.

If they were asked to actually shell out that kind of money, they'd never agree.

But Takezoe and Tomizawa came with real, solid offers.

"…."

Takashi closed his eyes, suppressing the greed bubbling in his heart.

When he opened them again, his gaze was calm once more.

"Sorry, but I currently have no plans to go pro."

Yes, the contract in front of him was extremely tempting.

But Takashi honestly didn't plan to go professional just yet.

He didn't mind if baseball was just a hobby. But going pro? That was another story.

Professional athletes—whether in baseball, soccer, basketball, or football—were literally monetizing their bodies.

Almost every single one ends up with injuries of varying severity.

Takashi didn't fear hardship—but he wouldn't choose to suffer if he could help it.

To endure bitter hardship and plot revenge is one thing; to suffer for no reason is just stupid.

Most importantly, even if he became a pro, the best he could do was reach Otani Shohei's level.

Otani was rich, sure—but with that kind of goal, there was no way Takashi could marry both Hitomi and Narii.

His ambitions were way bigger than what baseball alone could fulfill.

"Takashi-kun, if the number isn't right, we can renegotiate."

Tomizawa assumed he was just unhappy with the amount.

The current offer wasn't the final one.

"It's not about the money. I just don't have that goal right now."

If Takashi's goal were someone like Ichika or Hoshino Ai—

He'd sign the contract. Because that would've been enough.

But his goal was Hitomi and Narii.

So this just wasn't enough.

"Takashi-kun, don't be so quick to decline. I know you're the man of someone from the Konoe family. I get it—this kind of money must seem small to you."

Takezoe wasn't surprised by his answer. He spoke at a steady pace.

Tomizawa's pupils shrank at the mention of the Konoe family.

She hadn't realized Takashi was involved with the heiress of the Konoe household.

That alone revealed the gap between Takezoe and Tomizawa.

Takezoe worked in a field he was passionate about.

Tomizawa was just another corporate drone.

She didn't have access to that kind of insider information.

It's like the real estate market—

Some people have insider info about future subway lines and demolition plans.

Meanwhile, ordinary buyers get suckered by realtors into overpaying for worthless homes, then spend decades paying off loans for properties that lose value.

"Still, why not consider doing it for just one year? You could treat it like a side gig."

Takashi blinked in surprise.

Wait, you could do that?

"Just one year. Technically it's not allowed, but if you get a career-ending injury after one season… well, what can we do?"

Takezoe took another sip of tea, unhurried.

"Takashi-kun, don't rush to reject me. Here's my card. Who knows—you might change your mind someday."

He handed over his card and left without lingering.

"Takashi-kun, same goes for me. I'll be waiting for your response anytime."

Tomizawa left her business card as well.

This time, Takashi didn't refuse. He tucked both cards away.

You never know—these could be valuable contacts.

Might really need them someday.

"Thanks, kid."

Once they were gone, Suzuki Ichiro raised his wine glass and clinked it gently with Takashi's.

"Let's just say I owe you one now."

To be honest, this whole meeting had been a little shady.

Privately approaching a player via personal connections like this was technically against the rules of Japanese professional baseball.

If he had a choice, Suzuki wouldn't have done it.

But in the adult world, some things weren't up to you.

"After dinner, you free? Teach me how to pitch."

Takashi, personally, wasn't all that bothered by it.

He even felt a bit grateful that the other party had introduced those two people to him.

Connecting with people from different walks of life could only benefit him.

Suzuki Ichiro laughed, "Alright, what do you want to learn?"

"Everything you know. Teach me all of it."

Takashi didn't stand on ceremony.

"What, are you trying to become my successor?"

"What's your fastest pitch speed?"

"…I'm starting to think you're kind of an annoying brat."

…

The next day.

Koshien, Round 4 – Quarterfinals.

Aoba vs. Arayata.

The media coverage was intense.

Never mind that Izuno Ren's crush had been "stolen" by Takashi—just Takashi's post-game remarks yesterday had deeply provoked him.

Before the game even began, they ran into each other at the stadium entrance. Izuno Ren threw out a vicious taunt, telling Takashi to go dig a hole and cry in it.

Takashi never held back on trash talk. It was good for building fame quickly.

And once you're famous, making money gets a lot easier.

He shot back, "Even if you beat me, Doma Umaru still won't love you."

That line hit like a missile.

When it reached Izuno Ren's ears, his mental defenses completely collapsed.

Before Takashi said anything, he had maxed out his mental defenses, thinking there was no way he'd break. 

But who knew Takashi was a caster, not a warrior?

Izuno Ren nearly challenged him to a duel right then and there.

Once the game started, both teams showed fierce fighting spirit.

Izuno Ren wanted to win, and Takashi had no plans to lose either.

After discussions among the Arayata coaching staff, they decided to use the same strategy that Kiyotaka Ayanokoji had used to beat Takashi: test his arm's endurance.

They fought all the way into the eighth inning, score at 3–0.

Takashi still hadn't given up a single run.

But everyone could tell something was off—his pitch velocity was gradually falling, hovering around 163 km/h, a noticeable drop from the 165+ km/h heat he threw earlier.

Arayata High noticed and perked up, defending with renewed energy—but their own pitcher started making consecutive mistakes.

As long as Takashi collapsed, those three runs could easily be overtaken.

Everyone had expected Takashi's arm to wear down by the fourth round.

The Arayata pitcher had also been throwing nonstop since Round 1 and was feeling it too—both sides were gritting their teeth through the pain. That's what a high-stakes tournament does.

They hoped Takashi would drop.

But he didn't. He held on.

Now, only two more wins stood between him and raising the crimson-and-navy flag.

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